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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391089">Exceptions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toacho/pseuds/Toacho'>Toacho</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arguing, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Internalized Homophobia, Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow are Different People, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:00:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toacho/pseuds/Toacho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan injures himself running from Batman and goes to Edward who helps him. Afterwards, they share a bed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Cleaning Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here's a short little drabble fic that I made into a few chapters. I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“While I am glad that you’re not moving and causing me to accidentally shove a pair of tweezers deep into your leg, I would prefer to have some sort of reassurance that you haven’t passed out and left me to deal with the mess.” They were sharp words bit out by the ginger as he crouched by the front of the couch to tend to the nasty wound, his bowler hat having long been discarded and tossed to the coffee table right beside the rest of his equipment.</p>
<p>	It was a sight. Bright angry red, blood having been wiped off repeatedly but the deep thin slashes still quite clear, even worse was the light sea-green colored pieces of debris that Edward had mostly finished collecting from it. “Thought you said if I kicked you in th’ face, then those tweezers’d be going in m’ eye?”</p>
<p>	“That still stands,” Edward said. “But a bit of chatter would be pleasant, unless you’d prefer that I just sit here staring at your disgusting wound while you stare at my walls,” He added, the sarcasm not escaping the professor. “Can you please just tell me what exactly happen? I assume it has something to do with all the police vehicles roaming the streets?”</p>
<p>	“Was workin’ on a project, needed some more supplies.” The professor started, wincing as the tweezers pinched on a rather large piece of glass tucked under the skin and began pulling. Despite the uncomfortable tug and tear from just under his flesh, his eyes were not on the wound, rather on genius digging inside it with one hand and dabbing away the blood with another. Even with the ginger’s head tilted down in front of him, he could still faintly see the crease of his eyebrow as he too winced at the sight.</p>
<p>	He’d never understand why some people would flinch and wince at the gruesome sights inflicted on others. Perhaps that was just another side effect of becoming so numb to everything including the pain of others.</p>
<p>	The thought; however, was lost the moment that the emerald eyes flickered back up to him as the glass clattered to the bloodied plate on the coffee table beside the man. “So the bat found you and attacked you with a bottle shiv?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he waited for an answer.</p>
<p>	“‘Course not.” Jonathan bit out, watching Edward’s gaze turn back down the wound and begin to set about cleaning it. “I fell.” He eyed the small bottle of disinfectant that Edward retrieved from the red kit, watching him pour it onto a cloth and then gently press it to the thick muscle of his leg where it’d been torn open. This time, even Jonathan couldn’t keep his gaze on Edward or any potential reactions from the genius, instead, tearing his gaze to the side of the room and eyeing the bookshelves while clenching his jaws.</p>
<p>	“How graceful,” Edward hummed, delicately dabbing at the wound after it had already been washed a few times prior. After it had been thoroughly disinfected, he would gently apply some cream to it, a bit of relieving coolness washing off the edges of the sting, before he would finally wrap it. </p>
<p>As he worked, Jonathan’s eyes would eventually drift back after the fiery pain had begun to settle, noticing that his eyebrows were still faintly furrowed. This time, Jonathan could clearly tell it was not from shared pain however. An approaching lecture. For a moment, he considered reaching to the inside of his jacket, gasing the other man into oblivion, and then taking his leave before he could have his ear talked off.</p>
<p>On the other hand, the genius had just spent an hour of his time tending to his wounds and ensuring that he did not die from a nasty infection.</p>
<p>“What’re y’ thinking?” Jonathan finally prompted, resolving that it would be much more polite to take the verbal assault rather than start an actual assault, particularly in this condition.</p>
<p>“You already know,” Edward said firmly, collecting the garbage left over from the bandages and setting them on the plate alongside the shards of glass. “It’s careless and stupid.” Edward said, waving his hand swiftly to emphasize his point as he stood up. “You could have easily prevented this; did you suddenly forget my expertise? I could have told you that their security had been updated. Selina could have told you-”</p>
<p>“I don’t talk t’ her,” Jonathan replied sharply, cutting him off as he already began regretting not dosing the genius while he was crouched down in front of him.</p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t you just ask me?” Edward asked finally, flicking the lid to the garbage can and dumping the contents inside. “Besides, you tripped? Seriously? I’m guessing the Bat was pursuing you, because I would like to at least give you the benefit of the doubt that you didn’t trip while running from the police.” He continued, walking to the connected kitchen and turning the faucet on, beginning to thoroughly scrub at his hands, fingers, under the nails, and even slightly up his arms, gaze skewered on the ceiling in a perpetual roll of his eyes at the professor’s idiocy. “There were so many alternative actions that you could have taken, what if you weren’t so lucky next time? What if you tripped and the Bat caught up to you? Would he be the one to make sure you wouldn’t find yourself stuck in Arkham again?”</p>
<p>Jonathan’s gaze darkened. “Don’t.” He never liked the references or implications that the rogues sometimes stirred towards the creature that lay deeper underneath the professor’s skin.</p>
<p>“I mean, he certainly wasn’t there to help you tonight it seems.” Edward continued, either unhearing of the other’s words or simply ignoring them. After all, the professor could hardly walk. What could he do? Lunge towards him and trip over a coffee table and fall on his face?</p>
<p>“Edward,” Jonathan warned, tone lowered.</p>
<p>Edward jerked his hand to the faucet handle and turned them a bit more aggressively than intended, snapping his gaze across the countertop separating the kitchen and the living room.</p>
<p>Hazel and emerald eyes locked into each other for a few uninterrupted moments. In the end, however, it was the professor to break the gaze with a sigh, drifting his own head to the side of the room where his things remain perched. The scythe was tucked neatly into the corner with the mask dumped on top of a rather large sports bag with a jutting frame. Edward’s gaze followed and he, too, gave in.</p>
<p>“Stay the night,” Edward offered, drawing Jonathan’s eyes back to him.</p>
<p>“Mm?” Jonathan asked, unsure if he had heard the man correctly. They had just had a fight, correct? So Jonathan could not understand the intentions behind the other’s question. Knowing Edward as well as he did, he sincerely did not believe the other to be the type to forgive and forget, no matter how small the argument may be.</p>
<p>“I said that I want you to stay the night,” Edward repeated, approaching the couch and leaning against the side of it as he folded his arms, expression unreadable even to the experienced psychologist. “You got your supplies, no matter how well you actually did.” Edward added, jabbing a thumb to the sports bag in the corner. “The police are out patrolling for you and if you try to head out now, they’re going to find your foxhole. If they don’t find it, the Bat will, particularly if you lead him directly to it.” He explained. “The only logical explanation is for you to lay low for just a night and let it die down. Let them assume that you already made it back and they’ll stop looking. What, with all the recent Joker activity, you’re not even their main focus this week.”</p>
<p>“Thought ya didn’t like havin’ guests?”</p>
<p>“I make exceptions.”</p>
<p>They locked eyes again. Another standoff.</p>
<p>“Aren’t ya worried I’ll bloody yer couch?” Jonathan asked. “‘ssuming I haven’t already done so.” He added after a moment of consideration, glancing down but finding that the towel that Edward had placed underneath the wound had seemed to protect the leather rather well.</p>
<p>“I’m more-so worried you’ll bloody my bed, but it can be easily washed.” Edward said.</p>
<p>“Bed?”</p>
<p>Edward gave a slight smile and shook his head. “It isn’t ideal, but I can wash blood off sheets a lot easier than washing it off that couch. I would prefer you take the bed.” ‘I would prefer,’ Edward’s polite way of informing someone of his unbending opinions.</p>
<p>Despite the thought of a comfortable mattress, Jonathan couldn’t help but furrow his brow at the thought. He couldn’t see Edward as the type to give up his bed for anyone, his endless ranting at the Asylum was proof of that back when the guards had foolishly tried to implement a ‘buddy system’ due to overcapacity. “Where’ll you sleep, hotel?” Jonathan asked, unable to add the drip of sarcasm at the end.</p>
<p>“In the bed. It’s big. It’s comfortable. I have plenty of blankets.” Edward said, giving a slight shrug, arms still neatly folded. “Oh don’t give me that look, this isn’t an elaborate scheme to get in your pants. Simply put, I would rather you don’t bleed on my furniture and this is the easiest option. Otherwise, you can sleep on the floor, but I’ll warn you, if you bleed on there and stain it, then you’ll be on your knees scrubbing them tomorrow morning regardless of your health.”</p>
<p>Jonathan was not fond of the idea, or any of the others to be more precise. Laying in bed with another person, let alone a man and a rogue, was hardly an experience he was interested in exploring. His childhood had been sure to beat that weariness into him from a young age. Even still, he knew Edward to be a man of his word and Jonathan was not keen on worsening his condition or cleaning his own blood in the morning.</p>
<p>“You said it’s large?” He asked.</p>
<p>Edward nodded. “We can lay on either side and even put pillows between us if you’re that scared of touching me.” It was always endless sarcasm with the genius, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>Jonathan considered it for a moment before finally giving in. “Fine.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bad Odds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Edward and Jonathan make their final preparations for bed and Edward reveals his intentions for how he would like to change Gotham.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To say that Edward Nygma’s nightly routine for preparing for bed was extensive would be an understatement. First, he prepared the clothes; an question mark t-shirt with a pair of cotton sweatpants, each having been placed in the dryer approximately two hours prior. With these items neatly folded and resting on a shelf in his bathroom, then came the shower, skin care routine, and lastly brushing his teeth. Always in this order, never altered despite who may be in his home or what may be occurring outside of it.</p>
<p>	When it was all finished, Edward left the room while patting his hair dry and donning his night clothes, glancing to the professor as the man looked over Edward’s bookshelves, occasionally using a finger to tug at the upper-spine of a book and glance at the cover before sliding it back into place. Edward drew his gaze away as he placed his former clothes and the towel in the washer. “If you’re looking for yours, I keep it in the study,” He said without much regard, starting the machine and closing the doors back over the combined machines, glancing to Jonathan again and noting the other’s quirked eyebrow. “The material you cover is excellent; not really my tastes but good nonetheless. My only complaint is that you use too many ellipses. I’m surprised your editor didn’t say anything.”</p>
<p>	“Right,” Jonathan hummed, brushing off the comment as he glanced back to the shelf, shifting in place to try and ease up on the injured leg.</p>
<p>	Edward eyed the professor for a moment while the other’s gaze was turned to the book shelf, tracing particularly to his leg and the bandages across it. As Edward had predicted, the stubborn professor’s reluctance to rest for even a minute had already caused a few specks of red to peer through the bandages. Luckily, it was nothing that needed tended to this exact moment.</p>
<p>	“Are the painkillers helping?” He asked, finally breaking the silence and drawing the professor’s gaze back to him. For a moment, Edward could see that tint of confusion, as if the professor had not heard him, leading Edward to casually flick a finger towards his leg. “Is it helping?”</p>
<p>	“M’ fine.”</p>
<p>	Edward frowned and gave a soft sigh, the doctor’s lack of answering his question not going unnoticed. “Alright, do you need any help getting to the bedroom?”</p>
<p>	“Edward,” Jonathan said rather sharply, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I was able to run three blocks t’ get here, I c’n walk.”</p>
<p>	Edward cracked a slight smirk, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorframe of the hallway. “You also tripped on a bottle and crammed a bunch of glass a couple of inches into your leg. Just because you can shamble around pretending that you’re fine doesn’t mean that you should.” Normally, the strict professor act would have tempted the genius to back down. However, considering the circumstances, he knew he was right. “If you would like, I can help you to the room so that you can get some rest.” Edward repeated, raising his eyebrow at the professor to mock his former gesture.</p>
<p>	Jonathan eyed him for another moment before giving another sigh and lifting out his arm on the injured side, drawing his gaze to the side of the room, clearly lacking the energy or motivation to argue with the other man.  Edward let out a soft laugh and approached.</p>
<p>	He chose to be gentle with the professor, primarily supporting him by the shoulder but letting the other man do the majority of supporting himself. If he started to stumble, Edward would apply a little more force until he had regained his footing, then calmly restraining himself once more until the doctor next needed him. When not trying to support him on the short walk from the living room to the bedroom, he would either take a couple of steps ahead and open a door or would guide him towards the proper direction. He kept close enough to help the professor but distant enough to not accidentally graze the man’s wound or put him in an uncomfortable position.</p>
<p>	By all means and purposes, it was about as graceful as an expert dancing with a lame man.</p>
<p>	“Y’ weren’t kidding,” Jonathan mumbled on instinct, looking to the bed once Edward flicked the light, his eyes then following the other man as he left his side and gave a rippled laugh as he approached the end of the bed. “Who’d y’ steal it from?”</p>
<p>	Edward gasped, putting a dramatic hand to his chest as he feigned innocence. “Me, stealing? You know that I would never once dare to take property that isn’t mine!” He chimed before a smile cracked through the facade and he fell back to sit on the edge of the bed, dropping his hand to fold his arms neatly in front of himself and crossing a leg over the other. “Taking what I rightfully earned in a wager; however, well that is merely being sincere in my word.”</p>
<p>	Even the stoic professor couldn’t hide his amusement at that claim, cracking a smile and giving a single breathy laugh as he drew his gaze back to the side of the room as he shifted in the doorway to press himself on the frame and take some of the strain away from his leg, giving a faint wince at the sting of pain the movement caused. Edward quirked a brow at him but once he noticed the doctor’s pained expression to fade swiftly, he chose to neglect to draw the conversation back to the wound.</p>
<p>	“You’d take all ‘f Gotham if given the chance, don’t play innocent.” Despite the lightly teasing nature of the comment, both parties knew it to be just as sincere as ‘Edward’s word’. The genius had attempted it time and time again. Hell, sometimes he’d actually even come close, much more often then most of the other rogues -- save for Joker -- of course.</p>
<p>	“I deserve the city,” Edward hummed thoughtfully, putting his hands at his sides and leaning back a little on the bed to stretch. “It’s mine.” Despite his relaxed tone, there was a flicker of something in his tone. Something possessive and determined. Bold enough that if it had been said to any stranger off the street, then maybe -- just maybe -- they’d actually believe him.</p>
<p>	Jonathan sighed and shook his head slightly. “ ‘hope you know that nothin’ you’re saying ‘s special. You n’ I both know there’s been plenty of people with those same exact beliefs, and there’ll be plenty more. You’re not special, jus’ another prideful and arrogant person with an ego larger’n your own head.”</p>
<p>	Edward turned his gaze sharply to the professor. For a moment, Jonathan couldn’t help but wonder if he was about to be kicked out onto the street, cops and Batman be damned. Then Edward cracked another smirk before laughter spilled from his lips. “Okay, I’m prideful and have an ego,” He repeated, the words not quite registering to the professor. Maybe he was about to be shot instead? “They’re both deserved. I’m prideful because this is my city and I want it to be better, smarter, more clever -- not the dull and drab area it is currently. I will own this city and when I do, it will be a beacon of intelligence in the Western world -- hell -- the modern world. There will be no fools, morons, drunkards or abusers; only clever intelligence to outshine every other miserable place in existence. You said I have an ego? That’s because nobody has the right to take this city from me with what I want to do to it. It is mine, the city, the people, and every little thing here. I’ll be damned if anyone tries to keep me from it.”</p>
<p>	Both parties fell into silence, eyes connected as the genius stared him down from the foot of the bed, emerald eyes still holding that clever glint of a high from his own pride; hell, Jonathan half wondered if that passion was contagious, he couldn’t help but feel a shift in his opinions on the other man. The genius was selfish, there was nothing to argue there. Perhaps that was his most sincere quality; selfish to the point of love. Jonathan couldn’t tell if that was his greatest strength or his inevitable downfall.</p>
<p>	“ ‘don’t think our ‘jectives align,” Jonathan finally said, breaking the silence before he pulled himself away from the doorframe and began to shamble slowly to the bed, taking a seat at the side of it. It was true, one man wanted to create a better city -- a smarter city -- and the other would take no greater pleasure in plunging it into unending horror. Naturally, both of these goals were bound to clash.</p>
<p>	Edward gave another short laugh, turning in place and moving to his own section of the bed, laying back to stare at the ceiling and folding his arms behind his head. “I suppose not but I will obviously beat you to the final goal. I’m smarter, obviously more charming, and have been in this game longer than you. I’m sorry Johnny, but I do not believe that any statisticians would place the odds in your favor.” He sharply moved, grabbing a pillow and holding it up just as Jonathan dragged himself into a laying down position. Jonathan raised an eyebrow.. Edward leaned on one elbow, the other hand holding up the pillow with a smug grin.“Maybe I should smother you now so that you never have to deal with your own failure?”</p>
<p>	“If y’ try that, then it’s him you’ll have t’ worry about,” He snapped, snatching the pillow from him and dumping it in the empty space between them. “Goodnight, Edward.” Jonathan rolled onto his side away from Edward, one hand tucking itself underneath his own pillow and the other resting in front of him. “N’ don’t call me ‘Johnny’.”</p>
<p>	Edward pouted, an eyebrow flicking up as he noticed Jonathan’s reluctance to even get under the covers -- or perhaps he had merely forgotten? Either way, both struck him as strange. With a slight sigh, he hopped out of bed to switch the light off and returned, tucking himself neatly under the covers and mirroring Jonathan’s fetal position before closing his eyes and waiting to doze off, sleep hardly ever coming instantaneously for the man.</p>
<p>	Jonathan, on the other hand, seemed to have fallen asleep within minutes. Lucky bastard.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dark Rooms Make For Perfect Sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Edward has a nightmare and is nearly suffocated.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, fun little fact, this story was my attempt to write a purely (Or mostly purely,) fluff fiction. It apparently didn't work out all that well but you know what, there's plenty of time to try again another time. On the bright side, there's a little foreshadowing to one of my future stories.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Edward Nygma was never the type to be frightened by the dark. He never cried because of the absence of light, or mourned a single second without his greatest sense. People always talk about what they see the moment they close your eyes and Edward Nygma was pleased to say that most nights, he saw nothing but a lovely shade of pitch black right before his eyes. That was most nights. Tonight, with a single strip of gold peering from under the door, he knew full well that this would not be one of those pleasant dreamless nights.</p><p> The room carried a strong stench of mold that Edward knew would never be able to be washed away, almost strong enough to cover up the alcohol that he could pick up from even his current position a solid door away.</p><p> As he crouched down, he could feel the damp carpet on his fingertips right before he pushed his scrawny legs in front of himself and silently scooted back deeper, craning his neck as his red hairs grazed the shelf above him. It was an awkward and frankly somewhat painful fit but he wouldn’t trade it for a single moment of being out in the open and vulnerable.</p><p> He could taste the blood in his mouth and he hadn’t even open his mouth to shout, not yet.</p><p> As he stared at the gold sliver of light a few feet away, he watched it flicker for a moment, a pause of the same light, then flicker once more as someone paced just a few feet away on the other side -- he could hear rain somewhere in the distance and he wished that it would be louder, if only to drown out his heartbeat that he was sure the man could hear through the door -- another flicker as the silhouette passed once more, a dull thump as something was tossed across the room just outside -- one that caused Edward to jump sharply, his sound being thankfully muffled due to his head already being painfully pressed against the top shelf -- he knew the drill -- he knew how to muffle the noises by keeping himself so tightly tangled into himself that no sound could escape -- he was certain that no sounds would escape the room -- they would not find him for as long as he searched -- a low growl of noise from the other side of the door accompanied by a louder and much more harsh thump -- he wasn’t so certain anymore -- it had struck the door -- maybe he was being too loud -- a glass collided with the opposite side of the door and Edward couldn’t help but hold his breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he tried to strangle any indications that he existed in this time and place -- he could have sworn he felt the bottle’s collision with the door shake the house’s foundation, as illogical as he knew it was -- the silhouette was no longer flickering past the golden sliver of light -- it stood directly in front of the door -- Edward willed his heartbeat to stop pounding so damn loud -- Edward kept his air choked in the back of his throat -- suffocating -- his heart was too loud -- choking-- he saw through his trick -- he wasn’t stupid -- he couldn’t breath.</p><p> He awoke with a jolt, hand flying in front of himself towards his unknown assailant, striking a soft material that he was not quite anticipating on being his assailant. It took a moment to regain his wits; he was in his own house, it was November, it was raining outside. He had a guest. More importantly, he still could not breath.</p><p> He tugged himself back by a few inches, finding the movement a bit more easy than expected when one believes that they are being suffocated by the very tool they had joked about choking the other with merely hours ago, and drank in the air harshly while drawing his eyes immediately around him, expecting to find the professor leaning over him with the pillow clutched in his grasp. Instead, he was met with that familiar darkness. Staring at the ceiling for a few moments as he regained his breath and his thoughts, he eventually drew his gaze to his side.</p><p> “You’re kidding me,” He growled quietly, breath still heavy from his personal fight with the pillow.</p><p> Long gangly limbs were tangled behind Edward’s back and a leg had shifted to intrude somewhat in Edward’s personal space, the pillow almost fully obstructing his view of the professor from where Jonathan’s arms had tugged him so tightly into himself that Edward had barely been able to breath. With a corner of the pillow having been pushed down, he was just barely able to see the professor’s fast-asleep form; hardly aware of Edward's little nightmare.</p><p> Perhaps that was for the best. Edward had seen the fates of plenty of individuals who had become a subject of brief obsession to the doctor after displaying any signs of fear.</p><p> Edward tugged himself back, trying to pull himself away from the professor without stirring him, but found the grip to be rather tight. His lips twitched deeper into a frown. “So much for the stupid pillow theory,” He hummed with a sigh.</p><p> He drew his eyes back up to the professor to give the sleeping man a harsh glare but felt his heart immediately soften a little.</p><p> There was a rare sort of tired peace to the expression he wore. If Edward had ever felt the desire to compose poetry about ragged coworkers who had barged into his apartment with cut up legs and later tried to suffocate him while they slept -- well, then perhaps Edward would have compared the man’s expression to that of the the exact moment a storm rolls past and the day clears. He did not mean the sunshine or rainbows afterwards -- there was nothing bright about the man whose tangled hair dropped over his almost sunken eyes. He certainly did not mean the rain or thunder themselves either as Edward knew there to be none of that familiar rage, hatred, or generally any sort of emotion in that expression.</p><p> He was like the second a storm cleared in the way that his usually stoic and harsh features carried a slight and rare softness to them. Maybe not in a few hours when he awoke, but for this moment, it was clear that the professor was nothing more than tired and indifferent to anything that Edward preferred to never share to another human being.</p><p> “Honestly professor, if touch starvation was picking a coverboy, you would be a prime candidate.” Edward mumbled softly as to not wake the doctor, reaching towards the pillow and lightly tugging it out from between the two so as to not be greeted with another faceful of fluff. Then, carefully reaching behind Jonathan, he dropped it on the ground behind the professor and then curled forwards, tucking himself neatly into the professor’s grasp.</p><p> If Jonathan woke up and had a problem with it, then maybe he shouldn’t just grab random men that he’s sleeping with and cuddle them in the middle of the night. He’ll surely be able to scare away plenty of partners with that behavior.</p><p> For now; however, Edward was in a plain dark room with no slivers of gold or noises that rattled the house’s foundation, curled up in the arms of a professor that hours ago had stupidly tripped on a broken bottle. Listening to the patter of the rain, he drifted off into a perfectly dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading this short story and I hope you enjoyed it! Right now, I have two stories that are somewhat in development, though I'll still probably have a few smaller shorts while these are being worked on. If you have suggestions for cute (Or not-cute,) short stories featuring the duo, let me know and you just may see it float across my works page someday in the near future.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jonathan and Edward wake up together and have a mature conversation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jonathan Crane had seldom been able to stick to a proper sleep schedule. Most commonly, he would sleep when his work began to grow sloppy and his hands could hardly remain steady. As a side effect of these poor sleep habits, he had become a naturally heavy sleeper. Even prior to becoming a rogue, he remembered numerous times in which he would operate fine for two days before finding himself being shaken awake by a concerned janitor later on in the night with no recollection of </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>falling asleep. After he had long moved on from his time as a professor and become a part of the Rogue's Gallery, it simply meant that he missed many breakfasts during his visits to Arkham.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is not to say; however, that Jonathan was heavy enough a sleeper to sleep the morning away during his time away from the asylum. In fact, in the last few years, he had actually taken on a particular skill that allowed him to have such a poor schedule -- he was late to bed and early to rise. Usually, when all was said and done, he would be able to wake himself up after about six hours. At his makeshift lab in the bowels of the train station, this was a perfect habit for him, as the lack of daylight could not indicate the time it was proper to sleep during and whenever he was exhausted enough to finally doze off, he could hardly care that the closest object to a bed that he possessed was a dodgy mattress with a few clothes stretched across the various stains and holes left by its past owners. By sleeping only when necessary and for such a short amount of time, he was simply abusing the body's faults and tricking himself into being well rested -- a trick that neither himself nor Scarecrow had ever felt should be challenged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This morning would not be one of those nights and Jonathan's status as a deep sleeper would not aid him this time as Edward Nygma shifted one of his legs while they were both dozing, sending his knee directly square into the bandages that covered Jonathan's leg and immediately bringing him back into consciousness; kneed in the wound by a man who clearly was much further into her personal space than he really should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the jolt awake, Jonathan's reaction was not immediate, lagging behind greatly as his mind caught up with him. Eventually, as he opened his eyes and dragged his leg away from the dull sting, he dazedly opened his eyes and found himself staring into a small mass of bright ginger fluff that his chin was currently resting on. It took another second for him to register that his arms were currently coiled around whatever the mass was connected to. Finally, it took one last moment as he gently slid his left arm over the shoulder of the figure and lightly pushed at its chest to inch them backwards, emerald eyes blinking a few times as they drifted open, before he registered that it was not only a person, but a man and a rogue. Edward, nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>Jonathan gave a hard push as he stumbled off the mattress, his uninjured leg tangled in the blankets from the night prior and causing him to hit the ground like a corpse, a sharp jolt of pain shooting through his leg as his other knee collided with the floor. "Damn it," He growled lightly, tugging his leg free from the covers and dragging himself off the hardwood floor, nearly taking down one of Edward's decorative tapestries - canopies - whatever the <em>hell</em> they were.</p><p>"Christ, Jon," Edward snapped, rubbing at his eye as he stumbled out of the bed as well, approaching Jonathan but keeping a safe distance. There had only been a few cases in which Jonathan had ever been so close to being startled, few of which had not involved his famous toxin. "Good morning to you too," He sighed, shifting his hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. It had certainly been a rude awakening if Edward ever knew one; nearly being thrown out of his own bed. "I didn't know you were such a passionate cuddler." Edward hummed, cracking a small smirk as he folded his arms.</p><p>"Disgustin'," Jonathan replied sharply, eyes shifting around the room, clearly trying to find something. "Don't know if ya' think that was some sort'ta fun joke, but that was fucking disgusting. 'thought better of ya."</p><p>The smirk was gone immediately.</p><p>"What are you talking about?" Edward snapped. "The bed?"</p><p>"No, Edward, the fuckin' curtains! What do ya' think?" The professor shouted back, raising his hand and gesturing to where they were just positioned. "Course the bed!"</p><p>"If I remember correctly, and I <em>do.</em> Eidetic memory. Then you were the one that grabbed <em>me.</em>" Edward snapped, raising an eyebrow as he watched the professor shake his head and continue to search the room. "What are you even looking for? I mean, you've clearly lost your mind." It was a bit juvenile of a comment, but Edward would never admit it.</p><p>"Where's m' glasses?"</p><p>For a former professor and doctorate holder, he truly wasn't all that smart. "You wore contacts." Edward sighed, bringing his hand back up to the bridge of his nose.</p><p>He heard a slight huff from the other man, only pulling his hand back down and blinking as he noticed the man was already throwing the door open and beginning to storm out, seemingly having decided they have everything that they needed. Edward blinked again, watching the other man's quick shambled pace down the hallway. "Wait, you're not mad at <em>me</em>, are you? I didn't do anything!" Edward darted forwards towards the man, the other man not showing any signs of slowing. "Jonathan!" He grabbed the other man by the wrist.</p><p>Edward immediately let go as Jonathan spun around to face him, eyes darkened in a way that startled the genius enough to take a few steps back. However, after locking eyes with the other man, he could tell that despite the initial concern, it was in fact still Jonathan that he was facing. Perhaps it was that fact that lead Edward to keep his stance. At least the professor could be reasoned with. "Jonathan," Edward repeated, refusing to step down. "You realize that none of us care, right?" When Edward was only met with silence, Jonathan's gaze briefly flickering to the side to at least indicate that he was listening, Edward continued. "Really, it isn't like you're the first one. I mean, hell, you're not even the first man to stay the night at my place-" He said, waving his hand slightly with a somewhat nervous laugh and drawing his eyes to the ceiling to try and escape the tense glare.<br/>
<br/>
"Edward-"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't, just stop talking and listen for once. It's really not all that controversial here. I mean, look at Harley and Ivy for example, there's hardly even a second glance to them and you know the nature of their relationship. Come to think of it, I haven't even heard you have so much criticism for them as you do for-" Even for how much the two publicly doted on each other, there was hardly ever a single comment in their direction - not even from Crane who was supposedly disgusted by such displays of any nature.</p><p>"Edward," Jonathan warned.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to stop and you're not making a real effort to stop me. You know that I'm right!" Edward said sharply. He was tired of the whole act from the other rogue. "Look, I'm just saying that if you are what I am implying you are, then nobody is going to blink twice." Edward explained with as much sincerity as he could muster. "-And if someone does blink twice, well, let's just say that despite the fact we're all criminals, we don't take kindly to such acts of blatant rudeness." He finished, adding a final trademarked cocky Riddler grin as he placed his hands on his hips and slightly tilted his chin up.</p><p>Despite the small burst of confidence that his little speech had given himself, it seemed to have the opposite effect for the professor.</p><p>The man stared him down for a moment with that trained professor gaze, eyes shifting between Edward's own as if trying to pick apart the expression, to find where exactly he could look and over-analyze the other's kind words and point out the obvious <em>lie</em>. He couldn't figure out the intentions behind the man's statements. Sure, he had chosen to keep his thoughts to himself when around Ms. Quinzel and Isely, as neither had ever caused him any particular troubles. In fact, both had actually been rather kind to him during his first few years as a rogue, if not that, then at least peacefully neutral. He believed it to be none other than expected to return such politeness and not speak of either of them - behind their backs or otherwise. He had even mostly held his tongue during the brief relationship between Edward and Oswald a year or two prior - as short as it had lasted.</p><p>To put it simply, even Jonathan could not ignore the fact that his disdain for such relationships only made itself known in circumstances when such effects had been directed at <em>him</em>. Patients at Arkham who had made snide comments as he passed the cells during his former experience as a doctor, guards who had noticed it to be one of the few ways to truly bother the rogue, and that one strange time when one of Oswald's <em>arm-candies</em> had openly asked him for a drink at the Umbrella Lounge.</p><p>Still, it was hard not to acknowledge that there was a reason behind <em>why</em> he was so bothered by these interactions, and it could not be so neatly summarized by the fact that he had learned such hatred at a young age.</p><p>With a sigh, Jonathan broke the stare and ran a hand through his hair before shifting his weight, giving a soft wince as he remembered the pain in his leg.</p><p>"Jonathan?" Edward asked, waiting for some sort of response.</p><p>Instead of speaking back to the genius, Jonathan calmly shifted his weight again to place a hand at the side of the hallway to brace himself as he took a seat on the hardwood floor, much to Edward's surprise, and remained completely wordless as he did so.</p><p>"I don't.." Edward fell briefly silent. "I don't get it, is this your way of saying that you know I'm right and that you never should have doubted me?" Edward asked, cocking an eyebrow.</p><p>He gave a small sigh as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, brushing off the other man's sarcasm yet again. Despite being <em>able</em> to function with so little sleep, he wouldn't mind a few more hours. "I just," He began, searching for the proper words without coming off the wrong way. "I don't know how ta' be any different." He remembered back when he was young, too young to even know any different. When feelings were just feelings whether it was a woman or a man. It'd been a better and kinder period in his life, but ultimately, had fed into a sense of naivety that had nearly cost him his life. Even if there were no qualms with such pointless things as attraction here, he knew that there would always be that nagging feeling deep inside him that he would make the same mistake again and not be nearly as lucky as he had been last time.</p><p>"Look, Jonathan, I don't know what you've been through, not really," Edward explain with his own soft sigh. He had tried a few times to look into the doctor's past - back when the man was a new face to the gallery - he couldn't find anything past a few high school records, all from Gotham. Still, it was easy to make assumptions on the man based on his occasional references to religion and the few times he had mentioned family like the word sent a bad taste into his mouth.</p><p>He waited for some sort of response and when it was not received, he took a quiet seat beside the doctor, back pressed against the wall with his knees folded neatly and eyes still trained on him. "But you should know that we're not like whatever you left behind."</p><p>"Edward," Jonathan said softly, voice holding a thin layer of exhaustion.</p><p>"Yes?" Edward replied quickly, hopeful that his assurances had earned some sort of response from the other man. Edward knew he was right after all; the professor was a closet case and he knew it. Surely the doctor was about to thank him for saying what was blatantly obvious to every other rogue?</p><p>"Please stop talkin'."</p><p>Edward blinked once, twice, then sighed as he recognized that his words had apparently fallen on deaf ears. Jonathan Crane was not a man of change. He'd be doomed to the same cycle of self-hatred and loathing for however long he lived. Edward couldn't piece together the extent of whatever trauma had affected the doctor, no matter how much it was obviously harming him. Jonathan was the psychologist. If only he could just recognize that something was wrong and stop trying to ignore it, then surely he'd be a lot happier?</p><p>Edward closed his eyes and leaned his own head back, faintly mirroring Jonathan as he squinted his brow in annoyance, his head softly thumping against the wall at the somewhat sharp motion.</p><p>It was useless. Jonathan was never going to change.</p><p>"Stop worrying 'bout me."</p><p>Edward chose to keep his eyes closed tight. He didn't want to open them and be able to stare the man down as he was given assurances in the form of a lie.</p><p>Softly, something brushed against his fingertips that caused him to furrow his brow, nearly opening his emerald eyes but catching himself before he could. Still, he couldn't help but feel his heart catch in his throat. When a few seconds passed and the feeling remained, Edward finally let his disbelief get the best of him and slowly opened his eyes, first connecting with the wall and the glint of sunlight hitting the wall from the living room. His gaze then drifted to beside him where Jonathan's eyes were still closed tight, holding an expression of exhaustion even deeper than Edward had seen the night prior. Between the two, Jonathan's hand rested just beside Edward's, the tips of his fingers just barely connected to Edward's.</p><p>It was a wordless assurance. Platonic, soft, and perhaps one of the most sincere interactions he had ever held with the professor.</p><p>Jonathan did not need 'fixed'. He was an adult that could tend to his own insecurities. If a time came when he needed assistance, he would ask for it just as he had come to Edward with his injured leg the night prior. Jonathan was not Edward's problem.</p><p>Edward blinked, drawing his gaze back forwards as he blinked again, face just lightly flushing from surprise. As he stared forwards, he noticed the light against the wall once more. A few thin lines that drifted in through the blinds from the rising morning sun that neatly projected only a couple of feet into the dimness of the hallway. As Edward's eyes flickered across the lines of light, he couldn't help but acknowledge that he wouldn't trade this moment for a single dark room in the world. Not now, not beside Jonathan.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well that's a wrap. Thanks for reading and I hope you've all enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feel free to make suggestions for other short stories or drabbles between the two! Feedback is always appreciated too!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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